


Belonging

by DrummerGirl231



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Belonging, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Needles, Panic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 20:12:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18880408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrummerGirl231/pseuds/DrummerGirl231
Summary: When Louie develops a potentially dangerous infection after a mosquito bite, Della doubts her ability to be as useful as Donald in caring for her sick and frightened son.





	Belonging

“Maybe we’ll discover  
what we shoulda known all along! Yeah,  
One way or another,  
together’s where we both belong!”

Della started up the dishwasher while singing along to Powerline. What a great day to be alive! They’d returned from investigating the ghost lights of the everglades the night before, she’d just had the best omelet she’d ever made and only briefly set the kitchen on fire a tiny bit, she had her old favorite songs playing on a new phone that she was finally getting used to, and best of all, she and her whole family were home and accounted for.

She turned to go look for her boys, ready to jam out to the chorus of “Eye to Eye,” but she stopped in her tracks. Louie was peering into the kitchen with one hand on the door frame. He jumped the moment they locked eyes.

Della pulled the earbuds from her ears. “Happy Sunday, my little punkin’-noodle-apple-face!”

“Uh… yeah… Happy Sunday.”

Oh, she knew he was up to something… hiding something, looking for something, spying on her for whatever reason, but she didn’t mind. She loved everything about her boys, even their mischief.

“Whatcha up to, leaning all sneakily like that?”

“I’m not leaning sneakily…” he lied. He straightened up but positioned himself so only the right half of his body was visible in the doorway.

“Uh-huh. Sure,” she grinned. “Well, d’you want any breakfast? I’m getting way better at not setting the kitchen ablaze!”

Louie cocked his brow and looked over to the stove covered in fire extinguisher foam. Della followed his eyes.

“No really, it’s an improvement!” she said. _Aw, who am I kidding?_ “…or I could… get you some fruit or something…”

“I’ll, uh… eat later. I was looking for Uncle Donald. He wasn’t on the houseboat.”

“Oh, he’s helping Uncle Scrooge in the attic!”

“Which attic?”

“The one with no kids living in it and _lotsa_ boxes. We’re gonna see what stuff of mine is up there! I guess Uncle Scrooge kept my room the way it was for a while, but after Mrs. B. became the housekeeper, he had her pack everything up. I was just gonna go find you and your brothers to see if you wanna help!”

“Yeah… coooool… Good idea, Mom! You find Huey and Dewey, and I’ll go straight up to the attic…” He inched his way to the left as he spoke, and she knew he was going to turn and run for it – as much as he hated running – as soon as he was done speaking. It was like he was trying to hide his left side from her… and wasn’t his mosquito bite from the night before on his left shin? The bite that got so puffy so quickly?

“How’s your mosquito bite, by the way?” she asked just as he turned.

Louie stopped. “Uh… fine! Totally fine.”

“Lemme see.”

Louie’s brow furrowed and he darted his eyes to his left and right and around the kitchen, looking for an excuse to not show her.

“If you try to run, I will chase you, and I will catch you. Don’t underestimate the speed of a cyborg mama.”

Louie sighed in defeat and stepped into the kitchen, and Della gasped at the angry, swollen red bite an inch in diameter surrounded by pink-tinted skin wrapping nearly all the way around his skinny little leg.

“Oh, Honey!” she knelt before him to get a closer look. Before he’d gone to bed, Donald had drawn a line with a blue pen around the entire bite – the red and the pink - and now the red center alone was creeping past the line. “Does it hurt?”

“Only a little bit.”

“Does it itch?”

“Yeah, pretty bad.”

“Have you been scratching it?”

“No. Then I wouldn’t be able to tell how much of the redness was from the bite and how much was from me scratching it.”

Della smiled at her clever boy, but only for a moment. That meant none of the redness had to do with him messing with it. The bite was that bad all on its own.

“Can I touch it? I won’t press down hard.”

“I… guess…”

Della pressed her fingertips to the bite, avoiding the exact spot the mosquito must have bitten him. His leg felt warm to the touch. Just to double check, she pressed her left fingers to his other leg in the same spot. Cool as a cucumber by comparison.

“Right. Okay. We’re gonna go get your Uncle Donald.”

A few minutes later, Della poked her head into the attic and looked around. She could hear Scrooge and Donald, but she couldn’t see them.

“Donald?” she called. “Come look at your nephew’s bug bite!” _Did that sound too panicky?_ she asked herself. _Gotta not panic. Can’t scare Louie. Keep it light._

“Coming!” Donald called back.

Della climbed back down the ladder to wait with Louie. She was about to ask him how he was feeling other than the bite on his leg when a loud crash and a “WAAAAK!” rang out above them.

“Ugh, tatter me tartan! Watch yerself, Lad!”

“Oh, boy… that’s all we need, to take the _both_ of you to Urgent Care today…”

“Wait wait wait, _‘Urgent Care?!’”_ Louie asked. “I gotta go to Urgent Care?!”

 _Good goin’, Del. So much for keeping him calm._ “Well… all the normal doctors’ offices are closed today, Sweetie. It’s Sunday.”

“But I gotta go _today?_ I can’t go tomorrow? Why’s it urgent? Is it that bad?!”

“Don’t you want something for the itching?” she reasoned.

“We… have the pink stuff…”

“Oh, doctors have way better stuff than the pink stuff. That garbage is about as useful for itching as rubbing Pepto on your skin.”

She seemed to have struck a chord. Louie stopped debating and leaned against the wall with a half-shrug as Donald and Scrooge finally made it down the ladder.

“Louie? How’s your bug… awww, phooey…” Donald said when he caught sight of it.

“Great Scott! Is that only from yesterday?” Scrooge asked.

“Yeah, and it’s warm to the touch. I’m thinking it might be cellulitis.”

“‘Cellulitis?’” Louie asked. “I thought that was those dimples people get on the backs of their legs.”

Della chuckled. “That’s _cellulite_.”

“Then what’s cellulitis?” Louie asked as Donald knelt in front of him to examine the bite.

“An infection under the skin,” Scrooge answered. “Nothing te panic about, as long as ye get it seen to quickly.”

Donald put the back of his hand against Louie’s forehead and Della mentally kicked herself. _Checking for a fever! I shoulda thought of that!_ Then Donald put his finger tips under Louie’s chin and felt his neck. _Ugh and checking his lymph nodes! I never would’ve thought of that! Dangit!_

Louie made a little gagging noise to protest Donald checking his neck and Donald stopped.

“The good news is, it looks like we caught it early,” Donald said. “But we’ve gotta get you in to a doctor.”

“But what’s the doctor gonna do?!”

 _Maybe some lighthearted joking will calm him down?_ Della thought. “Well, he’ll probably have to chop it… but hey! Then we’ll match!”

Louie let out a slow whine like a siren and wrapped his arms around Donald, sobbing into his shirt.

“Oh geez… oh, Honey I’m sorry; I was just teasing. Mommy has a dark sense of humor. Oh gosh you’re not used to that yet… I’m so sorry. No baby, he’s not gonna chop it.”

When she glanced up at Donald, she expected him to be glaring at her disapprovingly, but instead she saw the face of empathy… which, because she was feeling so awkward, was sort of an uncomfortable cringe. Scrooge on the other hand was doing his best to keep from laughing at her failed attempt to comfort her son. It must be nice to have the grandparent role. All Scrooge had to do was sit back and watch her mess up her kids, then tell her stories of the way he messed up when they were little to teach her lessons she really could have used earlier.

“It’s okay,” Donald told Louie, stroking the feathers on the back of his head. “The doctor will probably just give you some antibiotics. Piece of cake.”

It hit Della why Louie wanted to show Donald his bug bite but not her… Louie was such a perceptive kid. He probably knew Donald would be able to comfort him much better than she could. He didn’t trust her. And seeing him cry into Donald’s shirt made her feel he was right not to trust her. She’d been home all this time, and as far as she could tell, she was still doing a terrible job.

“The nearest Urgent Care opens at nine,” Donald said. “If we leave now we can get there when they open, before it’s busy. Have you had breakfast?”

“Uh-uh,” Louie shook his head and wiped his face on his sleeve.

“Let’s grab something quick you can eat on the way.”

Donald ushered Louie back down the hall to head for the kitchen and Della stared after them a moment. Donald knew exactly what to do to take care of the kids when they were sick or scared. _And I only make things worse..._

“Good catch, Lass,” Scrooge interrupted her thoughts.

“Huh?”

“You spotted that infection before it made him terribly sick. You’re getting him help.”

“And stressing him out instead of comforting him.”

“Well, that’s the tricky thing about kids… the same things can comfort some, but scare others. Joke about amputation if Dewey ever gets cellulitis. I’m sure he’d love te match his mum,” he chuckled. “But Louie… he’s a bit more… well, like Donald was.”

“Ah… yeah, that clears a few things up.”

Scrooge patted Della on the shoulder.

“Well, if you kids are going to the doctor, I’m going te see if I can recruit the others to help in the attic. I’ll see ye when you get back.”

They were only behind one other person when they arrived at Urgent Care, so it wasn’t long before a nurse called Louie back and started taking his vitals and asking Donald and Della the reason for the visit, whether he was allergic to any medications, whether he’d been to this Urgent Care before, etc. Thank goodness for Donald… Della had no idea if the boys were allergic to any medications or if they’d been to this Urgent Care or not. There was so much she didn’t know about her boys’ childhoods and medical histories.

The nurse left them alone, and a couple dull rounds of I-Spy later, the doctor came in. It didn’t take him long to come to the same conclusion as Della.

“Yup, that’s cellulitis, alright… but he doesn’t have a fever, so that’s good… no red line going up the leg… but I am concerned with how fast it’s spreading, so in addition to oral and topical antibiotics, I’m also going to give him a ceftriaxone injection.”

 _“‘Injection?!’”_ Louie’s eyes widened with terror and he scooted back on the exam table, the paper beneath him crinkling in protest.

At the same time, Donald had leapt out of the chair beside Della’s and rushed to Louie’s side, holding his arms open for Louie.

“It’s okay…” he tried to console him.

But this time, Louie didn’t seek comfort in his uncle’s arms. “It’s not okay! He said ‘injection!’ That means needle!” He looked around Donald at the door and Donald shifted a few inches to block his view. He tried to look over Donald’s other shoulder, but Donald shifted back. As Della watched them, she realized Donald didn’t rush to Louie’s side with arms outstretched to offer him a hug… Louie was a bolter.

When the doctor left to get the antibiotic, Louie slipped off the other side of the exam table.

“Louie…” Donald started.

“No! You can’t make me!” 

Della stared at the base of the exam table where she knew Louie was curled up in fear just on the other side. Everything in her urged her to try and help, but how? What could she do? She didn’t want to make things worse all over again… maybe the best thing to do was to watch Donald and learn.

Donald didn’t think so. He pointed at her and nodded toward the door. Maintaining eye contact with her, he took a step like he was going to try going around the table to the other side. He was gonna try to grab Louie but knew Louie would try to make a break for it.

Della exhaled silently and nodded, then took her place by the door. _Louie would’ve heard that,_ she thought. _Can’t exactly be silent as a cat with a metal leg on a linoleum floor…_

She hardly had time to wonder what Louie might do instead of bolting out the door, but neither did Louie. Donald dashed to the other side of the table and reached for him. Louie screamed and ran straight at Della in sheer panic, hands outstretched to grab the door handle. She bent down and wrapped her arms around him, but he squirmed wildly to get free. Next thing Della knew, Donald was pulling Louie out of her arms.

“Thanks, I got ‘im,” he breathed.

But then Louie stepped hard on his foot.

“OW!”

Louie managed to grab the door handle, but Donald grabbed him. As he pulled Louie back, the door opened and Louie screamed.

“HELP! HELP! THEY’RE GONNA STAB ME! I DON’T WANT A NEEDLE! I AM NOT CONSENTING TO THIS FORM OF TREATMENT!”

“Let go of the door!” Donald ordered with his arms wrapped around Louie’s torso and legs, but as he pulled back, Louie only opened the door wider, so he called for backup. “Della!”

“Baby, let go of the door…” she tried to say in a tone as soothing as she could manage as she began to try prying Louie’s fingers off the door handle. _Dang, this kid is determined…_

She managed to get one hand pried off, but as soon as she grabbed the second, he grabbed the door handle again with his recently pried-off hand.

If only she could convince him the door handle was disgustingly germy, or… _wait, that’s it!_

She leaned over and licked the back of his hands.

“EW, GROSS! MOM GERMS!” he pulled his hands back. The door slammed shut and Donald swung him up on to the exam table and held him down. Della ran around to the other side.

“Licking your kid’s hands in a doctor’s office?” Donald asked her incredulously. She could tell he was impressed, though. “Isn’t that a health hazard?”

“How? What has he touched with the _backs_ of his hands since we got here?”

Louie still fought against his uncle’s hold on him. “I don’t want a needle! I don’t want it! Get me outta here!”

The door opened behind Donald and Louie cried and twisted to get free as the doctor stepped back in with a small tray containing a syringe.

“LEMME GO LEMME GO LEMME GO!”

“Help me hold him!” Donald said.

Della’s chest ached seeing Louie in so much distress. As tears dripped over the sides of his bill, her eyes began to sting, too.

“Della!”

She shook her head and tried to push past the pain of seeing her child like this. “Louie, baby, it’s okay…” she cooed as she reached for his arms. The plan was to hold his wrists and use her forearm to help hold down his torso, but the minute she gripped his arms, he screamed.

“OW! YOU’RE HURTING ME!”

Della recoiled, but barely had enough time to wonder how that amount of pressure could have hurt him before Donald said, “He’s lying! Don’t listen to him!”

 _Of course he was… how could I have fallen for that?_ But as she looked back at his tear-dampened face, it didn’t matter if he was lying about her hurting him. It wasn’t a lie that he was scared out of his mind. Her insides twisted with every motion he made to get free.

“Okay, can you turn him over?” the doctor asked.

“Wait, WHAT?!” Louie stopped jerking for a split second and Donald used that time to flip him onto his stomach. “I THOUGHT IT’D BE A LEG SHOT OR AN ARM SHOT! YOU DIDN’T TELL ME IT WAS A BUTT SHOT!”

Della leaned over to hug Louie, but also to keep his upper body still while Donald held down his legs.

“It’s only a couple seconds, and then your bug bite’s gonna start getting better, okay?”

The smell of rubbing alcohol met her nose as the doctor cleaned the area around the intended injection site. As soon as he was done, Louie stopped fighting but continued to cry. She knew he wasn’t any calmer; he’d only switched from fight to freeze, possibly because he was afraid of moving right as the doctor gave him the injection. Nevertheless, Della wanted to praise him for holding still.

“There you go, you’re doing great…”

“I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME!”

Della gasped as though an ice cold dagger pierced her heart, and then Louie screamed bloody murder as the doctor administered the injection.

“All done!” the doctor said.

Louie continued to cry on the table. “It hurts!”

“You’re all done, though,” Donald said, straightening up. “No more needles.”

Louie turned his head toward him. “Promise?”

“Promise.” Donald leaned over to kiss his forehead.

Della wanted to join in, but what could she say? Her son didn’t even think she loved him. Would he listen to anything she said? Or… maybe it had been just another trick of Louie’s? …but what if it hadn’t been?

The doctor told them what antibiotics he was prescribing and when to give them to him, and Della tried to listen… but she wasn’t catching any of what he said. _At least the instructions will be on the tubes or bottles,_ she told herself. How Louie was feeling was far more important to her now.

She put her hand on his arm and he turned his head toward her, then rolled onto his side.

“It hurts,” he said again.

“I know it does.” She used her sleeve to wipe away a tear on his cheek. “We’re gonna go home soon. We’ll get you some food, a little ibuprofen, and Uncle Donald will pick up your medicine and you can be lazy all day. How does that sound?”

He took a shuddering breath. “I don’t wanna move…”

“Been there… when I was nine I had an allergic reaction to I-don’t-even-know, and I had to have a hydrocortisone shot in my butt, and Uncle Scrooge had to carry me afterwards.” She held her arms out to see if he wanted her to carry him.

Louie looked down at her arms, then back up at her. She was just starting to feel foolish and wondering if she should have told him Donald could carry him instead when he reached out his arms toward her.

Back at home, Donald and Della got Louie settled in his room with some lunch and gave him children’s ibuprofen. Then Della put a folded bath towel under his leg and got a bowl of warm water, a wash cloth, and a bit of soap to wash the infected area while Donald went to pick up his medicine from the pharmacy. She drew two new lines – one around the red area and another around the pink, and she sat with him until Donald got back. Donald gave Louie his first dose of the oral antibiotic as Della applied a liberal amount of prescription ointment to the bite. All the while, Louie complained about the injection site being sore. Donald checked the site, just to the left of Louie’s tail feathers, and he didn’t see any discoloration or cause for concern. Just to be safe though, he looked up this particular antibiotic injection online and found that aching and burning pain at the site and surrounding area was a common side-effect.

“Yeah, and I already looked it up on my phone, too!” Louie said. “And apparently you don’t even need it if you treat cellulitis early! So thanks for putting me through all that for nothing!”

That evening, Donald found Della watching TV.

“Whatcha watchin’?” he asked. It had been a commercial break, but it switched back immediately following his question. “Oh… Ottoman Empire, huh?”

“Yeah. I’m trying to get into it since the boys like it so much, but… _ottomans?”_

Donald chuckled and sat on her right. “Aaaaand you’re eating ice cream out of a tiny carton because…?”

“There were only like two scoops worth of ice cream left in the container.” She could feel Donald’s eyes on her though, and when she looked up at him he had his brow raised. “Okay, fine! I’m eating my feelings!” she shoveled the last couple spoonfuls into her mouth and then grabbed her head. “GAHHH!” She spit the ice cream back into the container.

“Blech!” Donald recoiled. “Take it easy, you can’t eat that many feelings at once!”

Della groaned with her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth to fix her brain freeze.

“What feelings are you eating, anyway?”

“Mint chocolate chip.”

“Della…”

Della sighed. There wasn’t much use hiding stuff from Donald… not when it had to do with the boys. “I just… I hate not having all this mom stuff figured out.” She set her ice cream on the coffee table and brought her knees up. Donald brought his knees up, too until they were both nearly curled into the fetal position side-by-side, and she leaned against him. “It’s good to have you home.”

“Me?” Donald laughed.

“Yes you! Donald, it was awful… the fizzy rocks, and the gilded man, and then one time Huey lent me his JWG to check out all the cool things he added but then I lost it for a little bit and his brain broke, and… how ‘bout neither of us ever go to the Moon again?”

“Deal,” he said, wrapping an arm around her. “It’s good to have you home, too… for a million reasons… but for today? I don’t think I could’ve managed Louie on my own. He’s getting bigger, and stronger, and I was really glad to have your help at the doctor’s office.”

“Aw, look at you two,” Scrooge said by the armchair. Della turned her head. “Curled up together like ye were before you hatched…”

Della hadn’t even realized she’d curled up against Donald. It was such a natural and instinctual thing for them to do while stressed. But gosh, did she miss it. She thought of the bench in front of the blackboard on the _Spear of Selene_ and how she used to sit on it sideways, curled up with her right side against the back as she held her family photo, and it just wasn’t the same.

“Louie seems te be improving,” Scrooge let them know as he took his seat in the armchair. “He’s up and getting ready for bed, and he says it doesnae hurt that much to walk anymore. You both did a good job today.”

“So he’s not mad at me anymore?” Della asked.

“Well, of course he’s still mad! That’s how ye know you’re doing something right!”

Della groaned and sat up to grab her ice cream carton. “I am soooo gonna get fat during their teenage years,” she said before eating a half-melted spoonful, nestled against Donald’s side.

“Not the way _you_ burn calories, you spaz,” Donald said.

“Listen, Lass,” Scrooge said. “Ye cannae aim to keep your kids happy with ye all the time. Sometimes when you do what’s best for them, it makes them unhappy. Do what’s best anyway. Bottom line is, you two working together saved Louie’s life today, an’ I’m proud of ye.”

Della had finished her last bit of ice cream, but held the spoon in her mouth for a few seconds as her eyes welled up. She couldn’t hold her tears back for long, however, and she dropped her spoon in the empty carton and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

“Aww… come now, Della,” Scrooge said as Donald wrapped both his arms around her and rested his head on hers. She and Donald both curled up tighter. “What are ye crying for?”

“You gave me more feelings and I ran out of the edible kind!” she held the empty carton aloft.

But she wasn’t complaining. The truth was, in that moment, she felt she belonged… and that all was right in the world. And she wanted to cherish that moment as long as she could.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a family fluff writing prompt meme on Tumblr, but I had the idea in my head for a while. 
> 
> Some of it comes from my own experiences. I had an allergic reaction to I-still-don't-know-what when I was seventeen and had to have a shot in my upper left buttock and HOLY CRUD it hurt. I could barely walk.
> 
> Then when I was twenty-four and up at college all alone, I got cellulitis when mosquitoes invaded our theater space and attacked my legs. I panicked when the doctor offered the antibiotic shot and asked him if there was any other way because I couldn't imagine having to drive with that kind of pain, and since I came in early enough, he just changed my prescription to something stronger and had me sign a paper saying I was offered the shot but refused it.
> 
> But yeah, for the fic... Donald and Della didn't wanna take chances. Cellulitis spreads quickly and can lead to sepsis if left untreated. It can be fatal. Haste ye to Google to learn the signs and symptoms! (This concludes my random health PSA.)


End file.
